Archer: I assume you would be trying to suck a promotion out of some Russian guy's cock.

Krenshaw: Well, maybe I never get promoted...

Archer: ...and never will...

Krenshaw: ...because my mommy’s not the boss!

Archer: And maybe you just got your face kicked off! [Archer puts his foot in Krenshaw’s face] That is my foot in your face. Smell the embarrassme— [Krenshaw shocks Archer's foot with a golf cart battery]

Mallory: ISIS isn't your own personal travel agency. It doesn't exist just so you can jet off to... Whore Island!

Archer: That's not... a real place.

Mallory: I have fifty agents who would literally kill to move up to your position. And if you don't square up your operations account by Monday, they won't need to. Your position will be vacant! Sterling!

Cyril: Besides, I'm sure it's not the first time you've kept a secret from Lana.

Archer: Uh hello! Herpes?!

Cyril: YOU GAVE LANA HERPES?!

[Cheryl gasps loudly]

Cyril: Hello, Cheryl.

Cheryl: It's Carol.

Archer: Wha— Since when?

Cheryl: Since I had it legally changed because you always call me Carol.

Archer: Well that's just... Excuse us.

[Cyril and Archer walk away]

Cyril: What is this herpes business?

Archer: Bad joke. And a false alarm.

Archer: This is what a real field agent uses.

[Archer gives Cyril a new pen]

Cyril: The point is a lot finer than I prefer.

Archer: That's because it's a hypodermic needle and the cartridge is full of a deadly super-toxin called poiso... caine. [puts the pen in Cyril's shirt-pocket] Keep it in here. But be careful, because the cap slips off for, like, no reason.

Archer: Oh, I'm crazy? Cyril, you're the one who killed a perfectly good hooker.

Malory: Immigrants! That's how they do, you know. Just drive around listening to raps and shooting all the jobs.

Mallory: You never heard that? How Hoover was a huge cross-dressing chicken hawk?

Lana: I had not.

Mallory: Well that's exactly the kind of slanderous and unsubstantiated rumor that I will not tolerate at ISIS. Think about that while you're on suspension.

Lana: While I'm on what?!

Mallory: What are you, deaf and racist?

Lana: I'm black!

Mallory: Oh, put it back in the deck.

Cyril: Yeah, she's kind of weird that way.

Conway: Yeah, she's kind of weird a bunch of ways.

Pam: And don't go starting rumors about Conway boning your mother.

[Archer throws up]

Pam: You get any of that in the trashcan?

Archer: No. I missed on purpose.

Conway: It's a silent submarine propulsion system called the "Whisper Drive". [...] This is Wilhelm Schmeck, inventor of the Whisper Drive. Yesterday, Schmeck went missing, along with the plans for the Whisper Drive. I've tracked him to South Beach where he's arranged to sell the plans to Cuban Naval Intelligence. If that happens, undetectable Cuban missile subs could be parked right off Miami Beach.

Malory: Oh, that's right. I kept it on the nightstand to wake nanny whenever Sterling wet the bed.

Archer: [as everybody laughs] Mother!

Cheryl: Wait, whose bed?

Woodhouse: It was always "don't ask, don't tell."

Archer: Woodhouse! What are you doing?!

Woodhouse: Uh, sitting down, sir.

Archer: What, at the table?!

Malory: Sterling.

Archer: Like people?!

Malory: Sterling!

Archer: What?! Look, he thinks he's people!

Woodhouse: [as everyone wonders what to with the bodies of Utne & Elke] I shall fetch a rug!

Malory: But they were blanks! Weren't they?

Archer: Only if the back of his skull picked that exact moment to explode outwards.

Cyril: [carrying Torvald's body] I should be carrying her.

Archer: [carrying Elke's body] Cyril, I paid her, I get to carry her corpse.

[All dialogue and action unseen]

Malory: All right, drop them there next to that awful Louis Quinze repro. [Thump, clatter] Now, then. We want this to look like a classic hooker/murder/suicide. So... Cyril, take Sterling's gun and pump a round into his prostitute.

Cyril: Wait, what?!

Malory: Everyone shoots the chippy! That way, we're all in it together. Think of it as a team-building exercise.

Archer: [Wearing only a towel and baseball catcher's mask] WOODHOUSE! Do we have any lube? Like at this point even some olive oil would [finds his mother in the living room] help me get that drawer unstuck.

Mallory: And don't even get me started on Miss Gillette.

[Meanwhile, at the office]

Gillette: [To Pam and Cheryl] She has never liked me. But someday I'm gonna write a book about this place. Mhm, a real smackaroonie.

Cheryl: No no no no, like, a big, sweaty fireman carries you out of a burning building, lays you on the sidewalk and you think, "yeah, okay, he's gonna give me mouth-to-mouth", but instead he just starts choking the shit out of you, and the last sensation that you feel before you die is he is squeezing your throat so hard that a big, wet, blob of drool drips off his teeth and just, flurp, falls right onto your popped-out eyeball.

[Awkward pause]

Pam: Jesus Christ!

Charles: We bought those for him and if you throw them off the roof I will fly to New York and fling acid in your face.

Archer: Maybe you should've thought about that before you blew the damn drop!

Lana: I blew jack shit!

Archer: Name dropper.

Archer: ODIN doesn't beat Sterling Archer! Only Sterling Archer beats... [He trails off as he realizes he's lost the target.]

Lana: Do you wanna finish that thought?

Archer: Do you wanna shut your big, fat, negative-wordsy mouth?!

Barry: You'll know where to find us.

Archer: Oh yeah? And where's that? Uh...Dicktown?

Trexler: [after Archer hits a polo ball out the window] God, you're a natural! Bet it's all that lacrosse at boarding school, no doubt.

Archer: Yeah, 13 years' worth.

Trexler: 13 years?! What, did she ship you off in kindergarten?! Gosh, that must've been tough.

Archer: No, I loved it. Uh... made a lot of good friends. [Quick cutaway to a young Archer sitting alone on the lacrosse field] Family, almost, is what they were.

Trexler: Speaking of, how's your mother taking all this?

Archer: Oh, please. I bet she doesn't even miss me.

[Cut to ISIS]

Malory: [drunk on absinthe] Because he'll be back, crying for his mommy! Just like that Christmas break when I moved and forgot to give my new address to his stupid boarding school. [Cheryl gasps.] I mean, he rode the train into the city all by himself. He couldn't pick up a phone book? Nine years old, and bawling in that police station like a little girl! What's that tell you?

Cheryl: Kind of a lot, actually.

Malory: Oh, shut up. I bet you're barren.

Malory: I don't care if he's happy!

Trexler: Well, that's obvious.

Malory: Meaning what exactly?!

Trexler: Meaning who leaves a nine-year-old in a police station on Christmas?!

Malory: Eve! And he told you about that?

Trexler: Oh, we've had such great talks.

Malory: Fire him!

Trexler: Join him! Come work for me.

Malory: Have you lost your mind?!

Trexler: Every time I see you.

Malory: Fire him.

Trexler: Can't do it.

Malory: Can't or won't?

Trexler: Either?

Lana: No, as a matter of fact, I don't have Barry on speed-dial.

Cyril: Well, gee, that's rather surprising.

Lana: You know what's surprising? Kissing you goodbye at the airport, dozing off in first class, and then seeing you on my flight when I get up to pee! That, to me, is rather surprising.

Cajun guy: You should'a called first... this is the only airboat for fi'ty miles, and it reserved.

Archer: What do you mean, "Reserved"?

Cajun guy: Is that not self-explanatory?

Lana: [Offering a big stack of cash] Perhaps we can work something out.

Cajun guy: Sure, if you take that money, buy you a time machine, go back in time, and be the first person to reserve that airboat.

Archer: Thank you, certified air boat mechanic!

Archer: WOOOHOOOOOOO!!! THIS MUST BE WHAT IT'S LIKE TO HAVE SEX WITH ME!

Lana: HOW CAN AN AIR BOAT BE SELFISH?!

Archer: Burt Reynolds is my spirit guide!

Lana: Did you say "man crush"?

Archer: No, I'm pretty sure it was "shut up!"

Cheryl:[Struggling to operate the photocopier in the new “Green” ISIS] Stupid, efficient, Canadian lightbulbs. I can barely even see what I’m doing!

Pam: What are you doing?

Cheryl:[Holding up a “Found Cat” poster] I need six more of these.

Pam: Why do you need seven?

Cheryl: One for each cat. Duh.

Cyril: For god’s sake, Pam! Have you no sense of decency? That bathroom’s like a… a war crime.

Pam: Don’t blame me, it’s those new low-flow toilets! With the old ones, you could flush a dachshund puppy. [Pause] I mean, not that you would.

Josh Gray: Lana, I really like your new hairdo.

Lana: Well, if you like the collar, you're gonna love the cuffs...

Archer: That's just great. She gets dinner and Dixieland and laid. And I get mosquitoes and no beer and... not laid. How could this get any... [alligator surfaces and growls] LET ME FINISH... worse. You ruined it. You ruined the moment.

Ray Gillette: No! Well, except Randy Muckler who, turns out, was just leading me on to get out of the draft. So, I made a phone call to the draft board and now who's laughing, Mr. Hooks for Hands? A booby trap blew his arms off.

Pam: So then it's settled. We're a go on Operation... what should we called it?

Cheryl: Dick Sledge.

Ray: You wanna...

Pam: No, but it's like sour milk. You just gotta take a whiff. What's the story, Neckbones?

Cheryl: Sophomore year at my stupid college, I had a huge crush on the quarterback, this super-hot guy named Dick Sledge...

Pam: Sploosh!

Ray: Jinx.

Cheryl: ...but it was like I was invisible. He wouldn't even sign my cast when I broke my own arm. But I thought if I knew what he liked, then I'd have an in, so one Saturday when he had a game, I broke into his dorm room to see what music he was into, or turtles, or roll around in his clothes or whatever, but...

Pam: You were so busy sniffing his jock, you didn't hear him come in...

Cheryl: Because he totally snuck up on me. And I guess I blacked out because I don't remember stabbing him at all.

Pam: Why'd you have a knife?!

Cheryl: I didn't! It was a stupid pair of scissors, and it was his fault for grabbing me with his throwing hand! That's how his tendon got severed!

Pam: Holy shitsnacks.

Cheryl: Yeah, they said he could've gone pro.

Malory: Why not?

Cyril: Because it's just not believable that this guy, who also can not be named Cassius, would risk his career for a woman twice his age.

Malory: So make her forty.

Cyril: Yeah, and who's gonna play her?

Malory: Me! That's the whole point!

Cyril: You do realize there's a finite supply of Vaseline in the universe.

Ray: [loading up in the armory] No, shut up, we go in, drop the journal, and get out—no snooping.

Pam: [wearing infrared goggles] Aw, come on! I just wanna see if me and her have stuff in common, like...

Cheryl: Tons of cock porn lying around?

Pam: I don't have cock porn just layin' around! But sometimes, you know, you forget it's in the VCR.

Ray: How do you forget?

Pam: You rub one out, flip back to regular TV, Superstars is on, and all of a sudden, here's Joe Frazier's dumb ass drowning, you forget it's in there! Until Mom and Dad come to visit to tell you she's got Lou Gehrig's disease.

Ray: Why would you think it's okay to share that?

Archer: Come, Kriegerbots, avenge your fallen comrade! What voice is that? Is that from Bullwinkle?

Rona: [with Lana's sniper scope] Oh my God, I can see my penthouse!

Lana: Well unless there's a sniper in it...

Rona: Well somebody's in it. Who the fuck's in my fucking penthouse?!

[In the penthouse are Ray and Pam with their hands up, and Cheryl, whose hands are behind her back]

Ray: We are! We're complying!

Cop: You! Get your fricking hands up!

Cheryl: You're not my supervisor!

Pam: Shut up, we're gonna go to prison.

Cheryl: No we're not. Say the right stuff, and they just send you to a mental hospital for ten months.

Ray: I just this second realized why you do macrame instead of knitting.

Cheryl: Yeah, no sharp objects on the ward. They were super strict about that.

Rona: These like Kung-Fu monks make this fifty foot tape, like a cloth measuring tape, but it's kelp.

Lana: Ah...

Rona: And you swallow over, like, three days and you start to, y'know, pass it. Then you just slowly, slowly pull it out of you over three more days...

Lana: Wait, what?!

Rona: It pulls all the toxins out of your body. And you just feel so clean.

Archer: Save it for the fast-money round, Paddy! [Moves on to second mobster] Hundred people surveyed, number one answer's still on the board, name the douchebag who's in charge!

[The second mobster doesn't speak]

Archer: [Imitating buzzer] Eh-Eh! Need an answer!

[The second mobster spits in Archer's face]

Archer: Hmm, cock-flavored spit. Well, you never know what's gonna be on the board. Lemme see cock-flavored spit! [Blows the second mobster's kneecap off] That's two strikes!

[Camera pans out to reveal three Latino janitors tied up with "Jañitoros" written on the wall above them]

Archer: One more and the innocent Honduran janitors get a chance to steal the bank! [To Hondurans] I'm just gonna assume you guys don't actually know what goes on here. I hope that doesn't sound racist. [Moves on to the third mobster] Okay, kid...

Lana: He is a kid, Archer!

Archer: LANA! You're in the isolation booth! [To young mobster] Looking for the douchebag who's in charge!

Malory: None of those things would have been possible without the Nazi scientists we brought back after World War II.

Cyril: The Nazis invented Neil Armstrong?

Malory: Rockets! Which put him on the moon. After the war ended, we were snatching up kraut scientists like hotcakes. You don't believe me? walk into NASA sometime and yell "Heil Hitler!" WOOP! They all jump straight up!

Archer: Oh, sorry, I gotta get back to Earth before the Stargate closes.

Malory: Get back in here!

Archer: Mother, the chevrons are locking!

Ray: You're taking me out of the field?

Malory: Well, unless we need someone to go undercover as a shopping cart...

Malory: If you were in my tax bracket, you wouldn't be shouting such socialist propaganda.

Archer: Or wearing such shitty clothes.

Archer: [On Cyril being a field agent] The last time I tried to train him resulted in a dead hooker in my trunk!

Cyril: There was no dead hooker.

Archer: There easily could have been!

Lana: Heckle, Jeckle, between us and Calzado's fortified compound, there's about ten klicks of jungle that I just assume is one giant booby-trap showroom. So shut your dick-holes, grab your gear, shut up again and start walking. Any questions? [Cyril raises his hand] Cyril?

Cyril: What's a klick?

Archer: Well, look on the bright side.

Lana: Which is?

Archer: Which is what?

Lana: You just said look on the bright side.

Archer: It's a figure of speech.

Lana: You're looking for Predator, aren't you?

Archer: ...Yes.

Lana: [sighs] Couple things. A, he's invisible.

Archer: Not totally, he has a tell-tale shimmer.

Cheryl: If this doesn't work, we just paid a hundred bucks for liquid fart.

Pam: Yeah, well, here's shit in your eye.

[The three toast their mugs and drink the "herbal tea"]

Ray: Oh God, it tastes worse than it smells!

Pam: Man, if I had a nickel for every time I heard a guy say that... [brightly] I'd have eight nickels!

Cheryl: [vomiting in a toilet] Oh, my God. I'm gonna die in a toilet stall, just like the gypsy said!

Pam: Damn that Krieger! Nazi clone bastard!

Calzado: Tomorrow I will be hunting the most dangerous game in the world.

Archer: Jai alai?

Lana: Well, go ahead and say it.

Archer: What?

Lana: That since we are going to die tomorrow, we should have sex.

Archer: Are you kidding? After seeing a tiger get murdered? Lana, I'm not in the mood! ...I mean, if you want to, I can watch while you masturbate, but just so you know, my heart's not going to be into it. It's going to be with that tiger's family... But, you know... go ahead and start.

Lana: [As she and Archer try to run away] Go, go, go— [Archer grabs her shirt and pulls her back to the ground as he runs away] AH! Are you really that selfish?!

Archer: Apparently!

Archer: AGH! Eat a dick, jungle!

Archer: For a second there I thought you were a crocodile on a three wheeler.

Kenny Bilko: [on the phone] Alright boys, these ISIS bastards are serious, they just shot a black guy. [waits for a response] I know right?! Welcome to America!

Archer: Get 'em up, Dudley Douche-bag!

Lana: Please tell me that's a smoke grenade.

Archer: Okay... it's not though.

Archer: [Describing an ocelot's paw-prints] They look just like a house-cat's, but bigger and awesomer.

Archer: [to Babou the ocelot while handcuffed in a police car] They called you exotic. Which is just people talk for awesome. Which you are, which is why I am so happy I saved your life, buddy. [Babou growls and squeaks to him] Don't worry, probably just thousands of dollars in fines, maybe a little bit of jail time, hopefully just probation. [Babou leans forward and urinates on the car seat next to Archer. Archer speaks in a strained voice] Totally worth it. [Babou growls] No, Babou, that was all sarcasm. [more growls] YES, ALL OF IT, YOU FOX-EARED ASSHOLE!

Archer: [Climbing to the top of the moving train] This is going to be awe— SHIIIIITT! [The wind causes Archer to lose his gun] AHHHH! The dust! It's like being shot in the eyes by a... glitter gun! [Puts on night vision goggles] There, that ought to do it. Okay, let's try this aga— [Gets blinded by the lights of a passing train] AAARGHSHIIIITTTT! My retinas are seared like tuna steaks!!! ALL I WANT IS TO FIGHT ON TOP OF A TRAIN! IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?! [Switches off the night-vision on his goggles] The good news is, now I'm furious.

Malory: It was a NATO stay-behind set up to counter a possible Soviet invasion of Western Europe.

Lana: But then it sort of turned into this whole weird crypto-fascist CIA shitshow, starring Allen Dulles and a bunch of former Nazis.

Malory: Thanks, Holly Hindsight.

Archer: Lawyer up. Call the cops.

Malory: What?

Archer: Oh, and hit the throttle on the bourbon because I'm gonna have to, uh, bust you in the face a couple times.

Malory: What are you talking about?

Archer: Self-defense, Mother! It's your only shot! We'll have to uncuff him and "de-dildo" him, obviously... Smash up the furniture like he was chasing you all rapey. Fortunately, he's Italian so that shouldn't be too hard to sell.

Archer: I bet I'll never be able to have sex again without thinking about this! I bet I won't even be able to eat spaghetti and meatballs. Oh God!

Malory: What?

Archer: I could eat. Not necessarily spaghetti and meatballs, but, you know, not necessarily not spaghetti and meatballs. I mean I really like spaghetti and meatballs. Man, if I don't get some spaghetti and meatballs, I may literally die.

Archer: No, forget the glass Woodhouse, just give me the pitcher. For I am a sinner in the hands of an angry God. Bloody Mary, full of vodka, blessed are you among cocktails. Pray for me now and at the hour of my death, which I hope is soon. Amen.

Major Jackov: Et tu, Brute?!

Russian Soldier: Et me, buddy.

Cheryl: It has to be your place. Mine totally reeks of ocelot piss.

Archer: If anyone found out, I'd literally die of shame.

Pam: And how do you think that makes me feel?!

Archer: I don't care, Pam! [Pause] Having said that, would you please come into this dirty toilet stall and have sex with me?

Pam: Oh, alright.

Pam: This time really get in there. All you've been doing is giving one side hell.

Archer: Who hunts dogs?

Cheryl: Orientals, duh!

Archer: Where did you learn all that stuff?

Pam: You know I grew up on a farm, right?

Archer: Really hoping that's not relevant.

Archer: And instead of doing my job, I was here... Half-drunk and having amazing sex.

Archer: Ray's gonna be a cyborg over my dead body! Or preferably his! [Pause] But somebody's!

Archer: Jesus Christ, how many times do I have to apologize for that?

Cheryl: Once would be nice!

Archer: Hmm... No.

Archer: Are you going to open the damn door?

Rodney: Only if you give me that weapon.

Archer: Do you honestly want to live through the Rise of the Machines?! Which you won't, because no one will?!

Rodney: Uh—

Archer: It was rhetorical!

Krieger: A small power unit goes here on your... spiney thing, which sends electical impulses to your muscles and ligaments and... stuff, which I will fuse to a vanadium alloy endoskeleton, replacing your current, uh, leg bones.

Ray: I have to say, it kind of worries me that you don't know the names of the actual bones.

Cyril: Why is your instinctive response to run toward explosions?

Lana: Ummm... Because... I'm not a giant pussy!

Cyril: And yet, somehow, incredibly single.

[Cheryl is hysterical. Archer slaps her.]

Rodney: Whoa whoa whoa! Not cool man! That is not at all cool!

Cheryl: Rodney, you mind your own dicky beeswax! [To Archer] You got another one in ya?

Archer: I don't.

Cheryl:[seductively] Tease.

Archer: And I'm sorry for that one.

Cheryl: Don't be.

Archer: Because, I'm just going to say it, I think it's super creepy you get sexually aroused by physical violence.

Cheryl: Mmmm... Well, but also emotional violence...

[Archer suddenly crashes through the ceiling, naked, armed with an RPG. He stands and faces Cyril.]

Ron:...Which is why Ron Cadillac is opting out. And also why Ron Cadillac is going to swing by Montreal on his way home. Because Ron Cadillac is FREAKING EPIC!

Ron: Gimme a break ah? That wasn't my fault

Archer: (Finishes drinking bourbon) *Burp* Yeah, no. I mean obviously this was all due to the butterfly effect.

Ron: The what?

Archer: Butterfly effect. You know, a butterfly in Africa lands on a giraffe's nose, the giraffe sneezes, that spooks a gazelle, the gazelle bonks into a rhinoceros, and the rhinoceros blindly stampedes into a phone booth, calls New York somehow and says "Hey, go kill this idiot Ron, for a suitcase", because the rhinoceros speaks English!

Archer: Cyril, if you call ISIS: I will literally, LITERALLY murder you! I'd rather die than sit through another one of Lana's I Told You So 's

Archer: [Stranded in the desert] Unless I'm hallucinating, there's a Land Cruiser over there flipping his high-beams at us.

Cyril & Ray: You're hallucinating.

Archer: Oh. Well, the good news is we don't have to worry about these alligators... that's not actually good news, is it?

Lana: Why not?! Why won't you stand up to Malory with me?

Pam: Um, because we don't give a shit?

Lana: About the Earth?!

Cheryl: Please! If you really cared, you'd resign, but there's no way you ever will because you're just counting days until, her face bloated and yellow from liver failure, she calls you to her deathbed and in a croaky whisper explains that Mr. Archer is totally incompetent and that you, the long suffering Lana Kane, are the only one qualified to run ISIS and you weep shameful tears because this terrible place is the only true love you will ever know...

Archer: Mexico's most notorious coyote... Which is Español for "people smuggler."

Lana: Thanks. That's—

Archer: And also for... coyote, it turns out.

Lana: Archer—

Archer: It's a loanword. Or is it a calque?

Lana: Why do you always do this?

Archer: Because I'm always bored.

Cyril: Is he—? This is totally nerve-wracking. How are you bored?

Lana: Don't engage him.

Archer: Because I've been lying in scorpion piss for two hours in the sun-blasted shit-hole which is Texas, waiting for a stupid truck stuffed with smallish brown people who just want a job.

Cyril: And probably Mexican cartel gunmen!

Lana: What'd I just say?

Archer: Big whoop. I'm spooning a Barrett .50-cal. I could kill a building.

Lana: Just put one through the engine block when the truck has to stop, please.[To Cyril] This is what he does. He knows we're tense, because we're normal human beings. My theory—and I'm serious—is that he's got some rare kind of pervasive developmental disorder, or even undiagnosed atypical autism.

Archer: The part that calls for spy-craft. C'mon, we're posing as newlyweds, so—

Lana: Yeah, posing!

Archer: And I'm drunk on nuptial bliss.

Lana: You're drunk on champagne.

Archer: Eh, little column A, little column B.

Lana: ...then passing out on the bed, totally naked, for a... what'd you call it?

Archer: Power black out. And, you're welcome.

Lana: Yeah, thanks. The memory of your bare ass will bring me comfort and warmth during the coming nuclear winter!

Archer: Relax, it's North Korea. The nation-state equivalent of the short bus.

Cyril: God, were you raised in a barn?

Pam: No. I just slept out there a lot.

Krieger: [Running a Geiger counter back and forth over a glowing green pig, causing it to consistently go off the scale] Well, Pigley 3, that would certainly explain the glowing... [Runs the Geiger counter over his own crotch, causing it to go off the scale as well] And probably a few other things...

Archer: Go online and check your bank account.

Lana: Now? When I'm suction-cupped on a window thirty stories above the ground?

Archer: Yeah! You should have five bars.

Lana: Okay so, it's gonna sound like I'm hanging up? But— [hangs up]

Lana: Did you seriously climb all the way up here just to see what my bonus is?

Archer: No, I sarcastically climbed all the way up here to see what your bonus is! He said, sarcastically! Phone!

Archer: You're missing out on all the great things that Tangiers has to offer.

Lana: Name one.

Archer: Cheap...

Lana: [Interrupting] Apart from cheap hash and a repulsively low age of consent.

Archer: Rugs?

Cheryl: Ms. Archer, Lana for you, line one.

Malory: I'm not here.

Cheryl: [scared] Then how...

Malory: My God, a perfect score on the IFAAB merely indicates that a person is a candidate for field agent status, it can't determine if they're suited for actual field work. I mean, what if she had to subdue an agent?

Pam: Cue sad trombone, and... go.

[Snaps fingers, showing video of Cyril, Ray and Krieger being mauled by Pam.]

Malory: Pam! What the hell did you... waagh! [Brief shot of Cyril thrown to ground and picked up and thrown again] My God!

Krieger: And it goes on like that for another thirty-eight soul-cleaving minutes

Lana: [While walking through the desert] Because you let him, you let him push your buttons. That's why you stormed off with no GPS, gun, phone, or lifesaving water. And that's why you died in the desert. [Beat] Holy shit I'm gonna die in the desert. [Gasps] Just like Cheryl's gypsy woman said!

[Flashback to the ISIS break room, as Lana is talking to Cheryl while opening a soda bottle]

Lana: How. Would I ever. Die in a dessert.

[Back to the present]

Lana: Well, pretty close.

Pam: Plus I'm a quick learner, plus you've seen me drive I'm an amazing driver, plus I almost never get sick, plus I already bought three pantsuits, plus...

Malory: Alright! I'll think about it.

Pam: Is that a real you'll think about it or a "Pam, if your pig Leon wins a blue ribbon at the county fair, maybe we won't kill him and eat him for Easter dinner and render what's left into soap" you'll think about it?

Malory: It's...

Pam: Because I never really got over that.

Malory: It's a real one.

Pam: YAAAAYYYY!!!

Malory: —but thank you for that glimpse into your bleak, farm-y childhood.

Pam: It was actually pretty awesome. And if I'm being honest, so was Leon.

Archer: [to Kazak the dog] Okay, buddy, so here's the deal. A., scrooch down! And B., normally in this situation, I'd do a PIT maneuver, but if I do, the truck will flip, and if Lana doesn't die, best case scenario, she's a quadriplegic and I marry her out of guilt, but after a few years of feeding tubes and colostomy bags I start to resent her and the night nurse is, like, Brazilian and twenty. [Kazak growls] Don't judge me! I have needs, man! The point is, and it might be a kind of shitty plan [jams the canteen against the gas pedal] but I'm gonna jump on the truck, so I need you to take the... [Kazak barks] Wheel, exactly. So— [sees Kazak is gone] Kazak? [Sees Kazak has jumped onto the truck and is mauling the kidnappers] Lana, look! He thinks he's vampires!

[Tiffy, the pilot, has been arguing with Cheryl about veganism over the intercom]

Cecil: Hey, Tiffy. Could you, instead of antagonizing her, maybe go ahead and take off? [The chopper judders as it takes off] Love you! [To Archer, who's mixing a cocktail] We'll rendezvous with my research vessel in a few hours. So, in the meantime, I guess, continue to make such wildly liberal use of the bar.

Sterling Archer: [To Lana] But the point is we are highly trained covert operatives who am extremely dangerous set of skills. [To Pam] PAM! LEG!. [Back To Lana] Since the government has unjustly accused us of treason. We are now forced to transfer those skills from espionage to criminal activity. Kind of like the A-Team but we sell drugs.

Lana: Okay, listen up, there are way too many windows and doors to cover, so we need to concentrate on chokepoints. [Cheryl excitedly laughs] Not that kind of chokepoints.

Malory: [handing Ron a rifle] Here.

Ron: Noop.

Malory: What do you mean, "noop"? Take it!

Ron: Woman, I am not getting in a shootout with the goddamn Yakuza because you people decided to steal their drugs!

Malory: Well, I support you in your work! Not that you ever do any, but...

Ron: If you were honest with yourself, you would realize I have been incredibly supportive of you! Get arrested for treason, I stand by you; become a drug dealer, I stand by you. Oh-oh-oh! And you don't seem to mind driving around in a new Cadillac, do you?